


PowerBars and Sweatpants

by mrs_d



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Episode Related, Episode s04e15: Enter Flashtime, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-09 12:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16450235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: Iris and Barry finally get that breather they were talking about.





	PowerBars and Sweatpants

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Calliope_Soars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calliope_Soars/gifts).



> (o hai new fandom! huge shout-out to calliope_soars for bringing me to DC.)
> 
> This fic picks up right after S4E15 ends, and it makes several direct references to what happened in the episode, so if you haven't seen it recently, you should probably go and watch it before reading.

Iris was finally dozing, the flickering light and faint sounds of the TV fading in and out of her awareness, by the time Barry stirred beside her. When she opened her eyes, she had a second of confusion— why were they sleeping in the Cortex?

Then she remembered and shoved those thoughts away.

She half-lifted her head, watching her husband instead. After a moment, Barry woke up, and he woke up fast, with a sharp breath in through his nose. His eyes snapped open, and Iris could see him take in the scene around them, something like panic building in his expression.

“Hi,” she said softly, because his post-action naps often went like this, and she didn’t want to startle him.

Barry’s eyes landed on her, and he exhaled, relaxing at once. “Hi. What time is it?” he mumbled.

“Almost 6,” Iris replied.

Barry blinked around the room again. “It’s dark.”

“Yeah, you’ve been out for a few hours.”

Barry nodded and ran his left hand over his face; even in the dim light of the Cortex, his wedding band glinted. Iris’s eyes tracked the movement. He always wore his ring under his suit gloves, even on days like—

_Don’t think about today._

She shivered involuntarily. Barry’s right arm shifted slightly against her side like he felt it. Iris went with the motion, re-settling with her head on his chest. She hoped he’d just go back to sleep again, so they could put off talking about it a little longer.

But a few minutes later, Barry moved again, not just his arm this time, but his chest and legs, too. He made a faint noise of discomfort, and when Iris looked up, his face was creased in a frown.

“Want me to move?” she asked.

“No,” Barry answered immediately, and he tightened his hold on her like he was worried she might do it anyway. “Just— I’m hungry again.”

Iris smiled in relief. This wasn’t the first time — and it wouldn’t be the last time — that Barry’s rest got interrupted by his crazy-fast metabolism. It was inevitable, really.

“That’s three times in a row,” she commented, easing out of his grasp so that she could reach the supplies that Caitlin had left for them on the table. “Is that a new record?”

The corners of Barry’s mouth twitched up. “You tell me.”

It took Iris a second to catch on. “Barry Allen,” she mock-scolded when she did.

“What?” he said, his innocent tone completely ruined by the smirk on his face.

“Eat your PowerBar,” Iris told him, handing it over.

Barry took it with a laugh and kissed her — light and quick, nothing like the desperate press of his lips this afternoon, when—

_Nope. Not going there._

She distracted herself by snagging a bottle of sports drink and taking a sip. She hoped Barry couldn’t tell that her hands were still a bit shaky.   

“Getting kinda sick of these,” Barry said a moment later, with his mouth full.

“We could order a couple pizzas instead,” Iris suggested. She tilted the bottle in his direction, and he took it with a grateful nod.

“I could go grab us a couple pizzas,” Barry offered, wiping his mouth.

Iris pushed away the image of his sweat-drenched face and shook her head. “Absolutely not,” she said. “Caitlin said no running.”

“I know,” Barry answered, but his syllables were already blurry with fatigue. “But I could manage.”

Even as he said it, his eyes were closing again, his grasp on the bottle going loose. Iris took it out of his hands before it spilled, and Barry rallied somewhat.

“Flash Pizzeria,” he joked weakly. “Delivery in thirty seconds or it’s free.”

Iris chuckled, shaking her head again. Seeing him punch-drunk like this brought up a different memory, something older and happier: when they were seventeen, they’d snuck out of the house one night to go to Josie Wilson’s party, and Barry had discovered he liked peach schnapps. (Later, he’d tasted it again and changed his mind.)

“You are not going anywhere,” Iris told him. “Even if you did miss your true calling as a pizza guy.”

Barry sighed. “Okay,” he said with a goofy little smile. “I’ll just have to settle for taking down nuclear terrorists, then.”

Iris blinked, everything in her going cold and taut again. “Right,” she said finally — a beat too late and her tone too chipper by half.

Luckily, Barry didn’t seem to notice. He lay back against the pillow and opened his arms again. Iris couldn’t resist slotting herself between them. She settled her head against his chest and felt him breathing beneath her.

She stayed still, tried to match his breaths, to think of nothing. She watched the TV — some old black and white movie was playing, she’d lost the thread a long time ago — and tried to go back into the half-dreaming state she’d been in before Barry woke up.

It wasn’t easy. Her mind was spinning again, the events of the day replaying on an endless loop every time she closed her eyes.  

“Iris?” Barry said after a few minutes of this.

“Yeah?” she answered, wondering if he needed to get up.

“Your heart is racing,” he said instead.

Iris didn’t answer. She took a slow breath in. Out. In—

“I’m okay,” Barry went on. “Today was... rough. But I’m okay.”

Iris opened her eyes but didn’t move. _Don’t,_ she wanted to say. She felt like she was too close to a lit burner, the heat and danger of it threatening to overwhelm her.

“I know,” she said, just barely managing to keep her voice steady.

“Do you?” he asked gently.

There it was. The mind-wiping, stomach-clenching terror that had gripped her from the second Barry arrived, sweat-soaked and sorry.

“You came to say goodbye,” she said.

She wasn’t supposed to say that. She wasn’t supposed talk about it. Not yet. But now that she’d started, she found she couldn’t stop.

“You knew you couldn’t disarm it, so you came to tell me— to be with me, when—”

“Yes,” Barry interrupted.

It sounded like he choked on the single syllable. Iris drew in an unsteady breath; her words had dried up.

“You were so strong,” Barry went on after a pause. His left hand, with its ring, rubbed her shoulder. “Iris, you saved Central City today.”

Iris squeezed her eyes shut, felt a single tear, fiery hot and stinging, leak out the corner. She pressed her face into the fabric of Barry’s shirt, so he wouldn’t see.

“You saved _me,”_ Barry emphasized softly. “You don’t have to be strong anymore.”

She made a valiant effort to keep it together, but the dam was breaking. The water was starting to come through, ugly and swirling.

“There you go,” Barry whispered.

A sob escaped her throat. Iris felt stupid — they were fine, they were safe. They’d come through it, so why was she crying _now?_

Barry didn’t let go. She was making a mess of his sweatshirt, the cloth damp against her skin, but Barry held on. His arms were steady around her, his face buried in her hair, his body warm and solid beneath her.

“I know,” he said, like she’d spoken. “I was so scared, I— God, I love you so much, Iris, you don’t even know—”

His voice broke off, and all of her self-consciousness vanished at once. Barry was right here with her, feeling what she was feeling. He understood. He knew how close they’d come to destruction, to losing each other, today.

Emotion — too complicated to be called gratitude, too bittersweet for joy — welled up in Iris. She shifted against him, pushed herself up until she was kissing him like they’d kissed that afternoon — salty, wet, and desperate. He kissed back, his tongue pushing roughly into her mouth, and he was so hot, so marvelously alive. Iris could feel her heart start racing again, its rhythm only reminding her that they’d survived. Against all odds, they’d managed to outwit time and won the day, together. Barry had come back to her, the way he always did and always would.

She wanted him. She wanted him inside her, laying claim, telling the universe, their foes, the Speed Force, whatever, that he was hers and she was his.

“Iris,” Barry said, when she swung one leg over his and straddled him. “Iris—”

The word turned into a moan as she rocked her hips against his. She could feel his cock hardening on the other side of his sweatpants, no underwear or friction-proof suit to bind it. He brought his hands to the side of her face and pulled her down, just strong enough so her lips landed on his. He kissed her the way she liked best: deep and messy, thorough, erasing the traces of tears on their skin. She closed her eyes and rode the feeling, the simple beauty of just kissing the man she loved, the man she’d married, and let everything else slip away.

His hand at the base of her shirt brought her back, and she broke the kiss long enough to tug her shirt off, then unhooked her bra with a quick sigh of relief and let it drop with a soft thump to the ground.

“Not as fast as you,” Iris said, and Barry grinned. It had become a habit for him to undress her using his speed — she liked the way his hands flying over her, lightning quick, made her body tingle.

“That’s okay,” Barry replied. “After today, I’m good with taking it slow.”

“Today,” Iris repeated. An entirely different kind of shiver ran through her, and she watched it run through him, too.

She ducked down and kissed him again before they could talk about it. Barry made a quietly grateful noise and cupped her breasts, the movement of his thumbs a pleasant distraction. She rocked forward, savoring the gasp she elicited from him, and centered herself on his hips, rubbing his erection with the warmest part of her; she was so wet she could feel her panties clinging. The friction between them was teasing and wonderful.

She had just enough time to wonder which of them would give in first, and then Barry’s hands disappeared from her chest. He worked himself out of his pants, so Iris stood up briefly and did the same. His cock arched up from the bottom edge of his shirt, almost comical in its eagerness, but his eyes were glued to her as she climbed on top of him again.

“Iris,” he interrupted, before she could go any further. “Condom?”

Iris blinked. They usually used one, just in case, but Iris didn’t want to think, or wait till they got home.

Plus, a tiny part of her relished the risk. The thought of this moment between them creating life, of something new and beautiful coming out of this horrible day — she wanted it.

But she couldn’t say that out loud. “I’ve been really good with my pill,” she told him instead, and it was still the truth.

Barry took a breath. Iris could tell he was excited by the idea, but trying to hide it. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Iris said firmly, and she sank down, taking him inside in one fluid motion.

“Oh,” Barry sighed, his head tipping back, his long eyelashes fluttering. “Okay.”

“Yeah,” Iris agreed breathlessly.

They stayed like that, joined together — one flesh, as the old Bible passages used to say — for a long moment, just breathing. Barry was deep inside her; she could feel her heartbeat around his.

Eventually, Barry twitched. Iris leaned forward, put her hands on his shoulders for leverage. But his shirt was rough compared to the smooth skin she knew was under it. She stopped, sat back.

“Shirt off?” she said, and Barry nodded at once.

Iris gasped as he jostled her with the movement of peeling it off, and he obviously noticed, because the next jerk of his hips was intentional. Iris steadied herself with her hands on his now-bare chest— and if her fingers pinched his nipples, then it was surely accidental.

Barry hissed, biting his bottom lip. “Yeah, okay, I earned that.”

Iris laughed softly and ran her palms up his sides. “You’ve earned a lot more than that, Barry,” she murmured.

Barry tilted his head, looking up at her like she was the only thing in the room; she loved it when he did that.

“Iris, _we’ve_ earned it,” he corrected her. Some of the emotion from before was leaking into his tone; his eyes were bright again. “We’re alive, we made it.”

Iris’s throat was tight. Even if she knew what to say, the words wouldn’t have made it out.

So she settled for a kiss, bending forward to slide her fingers into his hair. It was damp at the roots and starting to droop — nothing like it’d been earlier, but enough of a reminder that she closed her eyes and fucked him, slow and deep. Anything to keep her in the here and now, alive and well.

Barry bent his knees, changing the angle, bringing her forward, until her hands on either side of his head were the other only things keeping her from falling into his face. Now he could move his hips, too, and he did, knocking her out of her perfect rhythm. She opened her eyes, watching his face go slack, and rode him harder.

A familiar sound caught Iris’s attention, but before she could look down, she felt it — Barry had wormed his hand between them and his finger was vibrating against her clit. Through the rush of sensation, she clenched down around him, making him gasp.

“Dad told me to make sure you rest,” she said. “This isn’t really resting.”

Barry huffed out a laugh. “Can we _please_ not talk about your dad right now?”

“Sure,” Iris agreed, but she clasped his wrist, pulling it away from her body. The vibration sent tingles up her fingers. “On one condition.”

“Anything,” Barry answered. He was breathless and sweaty again. Iris swallowed hard at the sight, every terrifying part of the day rushing back.

“No speed,” she told him, her voice almost but not quite breaking. “Not tonight.”

His hand stopped moving at once. He nodded without a word.

His thumb came up, brushed away a tear that was just starting to spill, and Iris let him pull her back down. She wasn’t sure whose tears she could taste on his lips, but it didn’t matter; they were joined in this, too. He needed her as much as she needed him; they were vulnerable together, and she didn’t have any words left for it.

So she kept kissing him, swallowing the tiny sounds he made when she fell back into rhythm, pushing up and driving down, until he stopped her, held her up so just the tip of his cock was inside. She braced herself with her hands on his chest, and gave him a curious look. Before she could ask, Barry gave her a small smile, licked his fingers, and grazed them over her clitoris.

Iris held her breath, then closed her eyes as the touch lit up her nerve endings. He knew just how she liked to be caressed — he kept her guessing with an alternating pattern: quick brushes followed by slow, hard circles. Iris bit her lip against the moan that wanted to pour out of her.  She could feel the pressure building already, her muscles clenching around him, almost pushing him out entirely.

“That’s it,” Barry panted. Iris opened her eyes, but he was watching her too intently; she couldn’t bear the heat of his gaze, and closed them again. “Do what you need to do to feel good, love, I can take it.”

Her breath stuttered. _Love._ He didn’t call her that often, and it was nearly enough to push her into coming. She shifted her hips to change the angle, and Barry swiped around his cock to gather the slick moisture gathered there. His hand was warm, and slow, so wet— God, this was exactly what she needed.

“Fuck me,” she gasped. “Please. Barry, fuck—”

He arched up into her, cutting her off. His movements were shallow but deep enough, even as his fingers kept up their erratic pace, and Iris was suspended over the edge, hanging on by the thinnest of threads. The moment stretched and stretched, and when it finally snapped, Iris cried out— in free fall until Barry caught her, held her. Held her together until it passed, leaving her twitching and raw.

She collapsed slowly, lowering herself until her face was buried in his neck. “Okay?” Barry whispered. His body was bowstring tight.

She nodded, the sweat of her forehead slick against his cheek. He bent his long legs and held her still as he thrust up, fucking her hard. It almost hurt, she was so tight from her orgasm, but she licked his ear, and he unraveled completely, driving deeper into her, faster. She watched him come, shuddering with it, his teeth on his bottom lip again, his eyes squeezed tight. She rocked her hips, fucking him gently through the aftershocks, until he finally let out a long breath and released her.

“Okay?” Iris echoed, and it was Barry’s turn to nod.

“Better than okay,” he said to the ceiling. His hands stroked Iris’s back. She could still feel his pulse, even though he was softening inside her. She climbed off him before that could change — quick refractory periods came with the superhero package — and lay flat against him, her head on his chest once more.

Iris wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that, listening as his heartbeat slowed, as his movements grew sluggish. Long enough for her to realize that she was naked in the Cortex, and that there was probably a security camera — possibly many cameras — that had just captured the whole show.

 _Oh well,_ she decided, too tired and sated for worry just now. She’d talk to Barry about that when he woke up. Which hopefully would be a long time from—

Barry’s stomach growled, and he groaned. “Goddammit.”

Iris couldn’t help but laugh as she climbed off him and gathered their scattered clothes. Barry leaned over and picked up a PowerBar, then frowned at it distastefully.

“Eat half,” Iris suggested, stepping into her pants. “Eat half now, and I’ll order a couple pizzas.”

Barry looked up, bargaining. “A quarter, and you order three?”

Iris chuckled. “Deal.”

“And you leave your bra off,” Barry added quickly, as she picked it up from the floor.

Iris shrugged and set the bra on the counter. “Works for me.”

Barry grinned and bit into his PowerBar as Iris slipped her shirt on and hunted down her phone. She placed the order while Barry got dressed again, and their favorite pizzeria continued to be the best, throwing in a fourth pizza for free and promising delivery within thirty minutes. She climbed back into bed with him to wait, and he resumed rubbing her back.

Barry kissed her hair, and she smiled. “So what else do you want to do tonight?” he asked.

“This,” Iris said, closing her eyes. “Just this.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm ~~mrsdawnaway on Tumblr~~ mrs_d on [Dreamwidth](https://mrs-d.dreamwidth.org/).


End file.
